Haikus are nice, but guys, d'ya know that the traditional form is more than just 17 syllables?

They also should have a reference to seasons, and format usually has three different lines, in a 5-7-5 sequence and with a grammatical pause, called
kireji This is put after the first five or second seven syllables.

I sit and wait, I'm all alone
A darkened room, is this my home?
I don't recognise, all this around me
I cannot open, my eyes to see
Am I lost? Am I afraid?
Is this life? Or just the # we've made
Pure destruction, multiple hands
Stained with blood of a thousand lands.

Well, you all have submitted some wonderful entries and I loved reading them all. It never ceases to amaze me how much creative talent can be found
in this wonderful forum…

In any case, I chose limericks for my own entry, and, only after composing a dozen or so did I go back to make sure I was following all the rules and
saw that we were limited to only three poems each! Oh, well – here’s three of the limericks to consider for the contest. So as not to waste the
rest of them completely, I’ll toss a few more of the other better limericks in another post following this one – not to be considered for the
contest, mind you; just for your enjoyment…

Here are my three entries:

3-Day Notice:

There once was a Martian from Phobos,
whose superiors were clearly quite zealous.
“Go to Earth.” they commanded,
“See that the humans are evicted;
we need to move in by next solstice!”

Lunar Lear:

John Lear is a pilot from Nevada,
and he sees things we can’t on ‘ole Luna.
“That’s ok”, he assures us,
“for there is a hidden modus;
and your souls shan’t be captured by NASA.”

The Henchmen of 9-Eleven:

On September 11 of two-thousand one,
a tragedy occurred that was second to none.
Things might now be better,
and we’d have less reason to fretter,
If we just knew the truth of the henchmen.

Now you play the inquisitor, and I play the accused.
Once I was the torturer, and you the poor excuse for flesh.
So turn the wheels of time, and what was comes round again.

Old soul, how long shall we kill the innocent for the gods of war,
or is it to be expected that rivers of blood endlessly soak Babylon
till Abbadon breaks forth? Then we will walk among the stones of fire

and carry the lives we lived into inapproachable light and fall
down to the dust for dust we are, ashes smeared on God's face.

Moving Lights around me
Shapes and forms surround me
I stand alone at night
I close my eyes
It's a horrid sight
Large eyes watching
color lights are dancing
Large hands waving
cutting open skin
I wish I had a tin hat
Taken to the beast
I move to fight
metal probes surround my eyes
All my senses die
Woken up in sudden fear
I was never there
The creatures from space
it's a horrid sight
You can see it on my face

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